On Birthdays

I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been thinking about them lately; but it seems that every time I turn on the TV, some fictional character is about to celebrate a birthday.

So am I, but I’m not fictional. Mostly.

On Monday, I turn 25. ‘A quarter of a shentury man’ as Mr. Connery would put it. My good friend Nano celebrates his birthday the *next day*, which is neat. I think that’s one of the reasons we get along as well as we do, from an astrologer’s perspective. Those wacky Libras. They keep ya guessin’.

Twenty. Five. That means I can rent a car, which I don’t need. My car insurance may also lower, which would be good.

I’ve had some pretty lousy birthdays, in the past. I mean, “Don’t even bother to get out of bed today” bad days. The last few years, since I graduated from College, have mostly been pretty good. That doesn’t keep me from being the slightest bit gun-shy when they come around.

At least two of them were spent, in part, celebrating with cast-mates in whatever show I was working on. That seems to be a going thing, and that works for me.

Hell. Here’s hoping Monday’s a good one. If things go right, I’ll be at Howard Community College that night, watching a rehearsal-reading of Dead & Breakfast. With Nano, no less. Which would just plain rock.

Cheers, people.